


Talk and song from tongues of lilting grace

by eaivalefay, Furorscribiendi



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-24
Updated: 2010-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:56:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eaivalefay/pseuds/eaivalefay, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Furorscribiendi/pseuds/Furorscribiendi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But hell, Tommy should have seen this coming right from the start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk and song from tongues of lilting grace

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Basically, this was inspired by one sentence: _I want Adam to sing ‘Kashmir,’ slinking across the stage as he sings, “Oh, let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dreams…”_ Also, this is what happens when one of the co-authors listens to Led Zeppelin while looking for epic length Lambliff fics. The other author says, serves you right and your brain is made of win.

  
Phoenix was probably hotter than the fucking sun at the moment. They rolled into town at some ridiculous hour – about four in the morning according to the roadies – and it was warm and humid then. And as they packed off to their hotel, the heat just ratcheted up and up.

They’d gotten there two days early and Tommy figured everyone would be making good use of the swimming pool in their hotel. Or they’d just stay in the room with the air conditioner on the sub-Antarctica glacier setting.

But Adam had been up bright and early and had headed over to the Dodge Theatre, excited and eager right out of the fucking gate. So everyone had tromped on over since they were setting up for their three day stint here. Plus if they hadn’t shown, they’d have to deal with a bitchier version of Adam and that was usually something they all wanted to avoid after Melbourne, Florida.

So they’d done the run-through, tweaked a few things and goofed off a bit. And when it was all winding down in the late afternoon, they’d all bolted back to the cars and hightailed it to the hotel and the fucking swimming pool.

Well, all except for Adam, who said he’d join them later. He wanted to stay and get a feel for the place, he claimed. That, Tommy didn’t quite get since Adam had been there from the morning. But he currently found himself driving back because he had, yet again, left his pack of fucking picks behind. Security waved him on through and Tommy was sure he’d never run faster into an air conditioned building. He was used to the heat in LA – loved it, in fact – but this was just fucking ridiculous. How the car tires hadn’t melted, he really didn’t know.

When he reached the auditorium doors he paused, trying to remember where he had left them. Possibly on the stage? Or maybe… yeah, it had been somewhere along the back wall, when Cam had chased after him with her wrapped sprained wrist, pretending to be a zombie and wanting his brains. Fuck, shit and damn. He found a door, tried the handle and found it locked. Everything was closed down already? Today was not his fucking day. Adam had left already and now his picks were locked inside and –

“Did you need something, Mr. Ratliff?”

Tommy turned and saw one of the staff. “Yeah, just forgot something inside.”

It was a simple matter to unlock the door and let him back inside. Eyes skimming the ground, Tommy made a direct beeline for where he thought they were. Sure enough, the package lay there on the ground against the wall, gleaming dully in the faint overhead light. Evidently he would have to find a tighter pair of jeans if his shit kept slipping out of his pocket like this.

The strains of a familiar opening chorus made him pause for a moment. It was probably the sound check guys doing whatever… only it sounded really quiet. Strong, but really far away. The strong beat of guitar, bass and drum echoed out faintly and Tommy snatched up his guitar picks before looked down.

Adam was still there, headphones sitting on the stage with his iPod as Led Zeppelin blared out. He was barefoot – when _wasn’t_ Adam fucking barefoot on stage – and there was an intent look on his face. His foot was tapping along in time to the music as Adam shook his limbs. The intro was still playing and Tommy stood there, unmoving as Adam started to sing along and slowly danced across the stage.

He watched as Adam slinked across the stage, hips moving in a slow roll. Those words, made so famous by Robert Plant from ages ago, seemed like pure sin coming from Adam's mouth. Tommy was riveted to the spot, the sole audience member, a shadowed figure Adam didn’t know was there.

Adam had the stage to himself. He was taking full advantage, letting the words flow from his lips, ambrosia or liquid sin, as he _undulated_ across the floor. He was gliding, and if Tommy’s brain was functioning at all he would have wondered if Adam was floating. Adam could move as though he never touched the ground, the way Tommy played, like his fingers never quite touched the strings.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and took a quick step back, hitting the back wall of the small venue. Adam was slipping into the chorus, ‘Oh, baby, I’ve been flyin, nooo-yeah, oh, mama there ain’t no denyin’…’ Tommy’s stomach was doing flips like nothing he ever felt before, and he would have shot out of there if his feet weren’t rooted to the spot. This felt so wrong; he felt like he was spying. Adam thought he was alone for fuck’s sake.

But oh, holy fucking Christ, Adam’s voice… Tommy’s brain was melting at the slow, sultry pace Adam took the song. The rest of him was melting at the sight of him, in jeans and skull-decked t-shirt, barefoot and moving across that stage like he was seducing the fucking devil.

Tommy was pretty sure if he moved, Adam would spot him in a split second. This is what he got for leaving his picks everywhere but where he fucking needed them. So he stood, frozen still, and watched as Adam sang, lost in the song. When the bridge came, Adam's head went back, the line of his throat long and lean and his back bent a bit before he did a move Tommy was sure only a fuckin’ experienced belly dancer could pull off like that.

A sinuous wave rolled down from Adam's shoulders, along the length of his back and down to his hips as his feet moved, gliding him across the stage. When Adam's eyes fluttered shut, Tommy felt the mad, desperate hope of escape grip him. He knew Adam didn't mind if people watched him rehearse and just kick back, but this was something else entirely different. There was no one else here and it felt like he was intruding on something so personal and nearly fucking religious that it was... well, it was damned sacrilegious.

The auditorium door was right there, a measly, what fifty feet away? He could make it.

Tommy eased toward the door, trying to cling to the wall behind him and keep to the darkest shadows. He couldn’t take his eyes off Adam. His eyes were still closed as he twisted and shimmered across the stage, words flowing from him, following the melody he could hear clearly.

Only Tommy could hear it too, in faint snatches, as he watched, listened and shifted closer to the door. The rhythm and bassline… it was primal, sensual, calling to all the most intense, basic instincts in him.

He made it to the door, well damned near to it. He relaxed, a flash flood of relief coursing through him. Just five more feet and he’d be out. Adam would never know he was here, intruding on a moment Tommy could barely put words to. A moment he didn’t really want to leave. Or forget.

He backed up toward the door and eased the door open. His eyes were still trained on the stage and the show that wasn’t meant to be a show.

And then Adam’s eyes slid open slowly.

Everything slowed down, he would swear by it. All Tommy could think was they were in some shitty b-rated movie with slow motion and dramatic moments. Adam’s eyes were drawn up toward the exit, where the flood of the hall lights spilled into the dark theatre even as Tommy’s body stood out as an unavoidable silhouette.

Adam didn’t stop dancing or singing, not even a pause. His eyes fluttered shut again as he moved, hips swaying along in time to the beat. His hands slid across his body, over his chest and down his hips.

Tommy’s heart was pounding in his ears, somehow not drowning out Adam’s voice or the instruments beating out in his head. Did Adam see him? It didn’t look like he did. Maybe Tommy lucked out. Maybe he could still sneak out…

And Adam was looking at him again. Fuck, how had he missed that?

Adam was looking _right the fuck at him_ , a smile curving his lips. Tommy’s grip on the door handle tightened, knuckles whitening. Some small part of his brain was saying to move, to just go and that everything was still salvageable to some degree. But most of his brain seemed to overwhelmingly agree that standing right there and watching as Adam glided across the stage to the set of stairs down to the auditorium floor… that was a much better idea.

So he stood there and watched as Adam came towards him, body still moving like it was fluid and boneless. His grip on the door handle relaxed and after a few seconds, he just let it go and took his hand away. The harsh light slowly disappeared as the door shut. Adam was just over halfway up the stairs towards him when it closed with a soft click.

In the dim auditorium, Adam now embodied that primal rhythm and beat, moving through the shadows and pools of light from overhead like a predator, his eyes burning with… with…

All Tommy found he could do was blink and stare, which was fucking ridiculous. Usually by now he’d have burst Adam’s bubble or joined right on in with the act. But this time there was something different that kept him in place. Then Adam opened his mouth and crooned out the words of, ‘When I’m down, so down, oh my baby, oh my glitterbaby, let me take you there…’

Adam’s tongue darted out and slid over his lips. And quite frankly, Tommy vaguely thought to himself, maybe it was a good thing that he’d stayed his stupid ass there. Because he _had_ just heard that, no fucking mistake. Quite abruptly, Tommy realized that there was no denying what this was. Maybe he’d been an idiot, for kind of unknowingly doing this song and dance shit with Adam ever since that first kiss at the AMAs.

But hell, Tommy should have seen this coming right from the start. At his audition, he’d just done a quick four song set of his favourites and hoped for the best so he could pay the rent and maybe fucking eat something for the following two weeks. But Tommy never quite forgot how Adam’s eyes watched his hands do their thing on the fretboard, pressing down, sliding along, picking the guitar strings. Just watching as he swayed and got into the music – because who the fuck couldn’t get into ‘Personal Jesus’ – and declared him hired.

And now Adam was right in front of him, the final words of the song coming from his lips in a whisper like a plea. Tommy just swallowed and clenched his jaw as Adam’s fingers grazed against his chin before moving down, tips skimming down his throat before Adam pressed the flat of his palm against Tommy’s chest.

Tommy took a step back automatically, almost against his will, the slight pressure of Adam’s hand propelling him backward. Adam followed him, hand still moving down, sliding along his stomach. It came to a rest on his hip, fingers curling in, digging into jeans, holding firm. But there was a look in Adam’s eyes, since the moment Tommy stepped back, the smallest flicker of doubt.

“Glitterbaby?” Adam’s other hand rested on his shoulder, gliding down his arm, a reassurance and a question.

“Oh.” Tommy could not stop staring, could not break the lock between them. He didn’t want to because this had been a long time coming. Some part of him knew it all along, had pushed for it. “Fuck this shit.” He reached up, curling his hand around Adam’s neck, bracing himself on his shoulder, and pulled down. The last thing he saw before he caught Adam’s mouth with his was his startled expression and the reflection of his own hungry face in Adam’s eyes.

Adam’s hands moved off him, his arms automatically sliding around his back, bracing Tommy against his body. That flicker of hesitation in him vanished. Adam was all heat and pressure and passion. His fingers curled at the base of Tommy’s neck, tilting his head up more, mouth and tongue exploring eagerly. He pressed back until Tommy felt the smooth surface of the door against his back.

And then Adam’s arm was unwinding from his back, moving down quickly, snaking around Tommy’s thigh and tugging up gently, pulling Tommy open against him.

Tommy was not going to sit back and take it. He’d never been good at that passive bullshit. His fingers dug into Adam’s skull, tightening in his hair and scratching along his skin.

Adam pulled his head back an inch, “Fuck, Tommy.” His voice rasped, all edge and lust. He pressed his hips forward into him.

Tommy took that as a very good sign, and was already dragging Adam’s head back down. Not that he could imagine Adam as anything but fucking _wild_ in the sack, but you never knew. He dropped wet, gasping kisses along Adam’s jaw before finding his mouth again. How long had it taken them? Hours or months or years? It felt like all three at once. He shifted, tugging his leg out of Adam’s grip and working until it was pressed firmly between Adam’s legs.

Adam took full advantage, pressing Tommy harder against the door, rolling his hips up against him. Adam’s hard dick pressed into Tommy’s hip, his own dick pressing hard against Adam’s thigh. Adam rubbed against him, breaking away from his mouth to trail kisses along his cheek and temple.

“Fuck, Tommy, keep moving,” Adam hummed.

Tommy gasped at the tone of his voice, bucking up into Adam helplessly. That fucking gorgeous voice... the performance of ‘Kashmir’ from only minutes before crashed through his mind. He saw Adam strutting and slinking across the stage even as he pulled at Tommy, hands sliding under his ass to lift him up.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, Adam, fuck—you, fuck, you need to sing.” Tommy hissed out breathlessly, hooking his legs around Adam’s waist. “Christ, sing, fuck, _Adam_!” He never would have said singing was his personal kink, but all he wanted at this moment was to hear Adam’s sexy, indecent voice whispering out the dirtiest songs on record. “Closer.” He groaned, hands clenching, fingers digging into whatever flesh he could find. He thrust forward, jerking his hips against Adam who was grinding right back into him.

Adam was laughing, mouth pressed against his hair, breath hot and damp across his forehead. “Sing, glitterbaby?”

“Ngh, yessss.” Tommy bit at Adam’s shoulder, teeth scraping across skin.

Adam moaned. He slowly sung the only lyrics stuck in his head. “‘Talk and song from tongues of lilting grace.’” Their pace sped up. He pulled Tommy up harder, pressing their crotches together, hips moving against each other. He barely managed to continue, “‘But not a word I heard…could I relate…’ Oh fuck.” He pressed his mouth to Tommy’s, nipping at Tommy’s lips. They moved together. When Tommy jerked his head away, pressing his forehead against Adam’s shoulder and swearing profusely, Adam groaned. “Come on Tommy. Shit, come on. ‘ooh, my glitterbaby let me take you there.’”

The roughly sung words pushed Tommy over the edge. He tightened his grip around Adam brutally, shuddering against him. He hissed behind clenched teeth, “Fuuuuuuck, yessss. Fuck, keep moving, Adam. Harder.” He pushed into Adam.

Adam thrust against him, gasping, licking and biting along Tommy’s jaw. He came hard a minute later, pressed into Tommy. For a few minutes, Tommy stayed wrapped around Adam. His breath was still rapid and it felt like he still needed to come up for air. The sound of Adam’s breath was just as harsh, as he pressed soft kisses against Tommy’s temple. Adam’s hands squeezed his ass gently before sliding back and Tommy took the cue, unhooking his legs and placing his feet back on the ground.

They slowly relaxed against each other, just letting themselves unwind. Tommy started stroking skin lazily as Adam slid an arm around his back. He nearly started purring when Adam’s other hand slid over his shoulders to the nape of his neck, fingers starting to stroking the fine, sweat-soaked hairs. Nearly, since he wasn’t a fucking feline, despite what he did on stage some nights that made Adam call him, ‘a little kitty cat.’

After awhile Adam chuckled, “I never would have pegged you for a music slut, glitterbaby.”

“I’m not.” Tommy bitched plaintively.

“Could have fucking fooled me.” Adam’s arm tightened around him briefly. He pressed his face into Tommy’s hair.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole. It’s news to me.” Tommy leaned into the touch, pushing his own face closer into Adam’s neck, breathing in Adam’s sweaty scent.

“So…” Adam grinned, “We’ll find out about it together then.”

Tommy got the feeling it was as much a question as a statement. “I’m not letting you off the hook now that you started this weird singing shit with me.” He said pointedly.

Adam chuckled. “Couldn’t have that.”

Something slammed into the other side of the door, throwing Tommy hard against Adam. There was loud swearing from the other side. Adam shot the door an exasperated look and thumped back on it with a fist. The swearing and thumping stopped before it resumed again.

“Adam,” came the pissy sounding voice on the other side. “We need to get the fuck in there for –”

Tommy snorted with laughter when Adam cracked the door open, demanded fifteen more minutes and yanked it back shut. The clincher was when he turned the lock. Almost a second later, the doorknob jiggled and the door shook once more and the swearing returned. But when it was clear that Adam wouldn’t open the door, the person on the other side eventually gave up.

“Who was that?” Tommy turned to look at the door.

“Stage director,” Adam shrugged as he stared down at him. “Really didn’t want to be interrupted, you know?”

Adam ducked his head down and Tommy found himself on the receiving end of a soft and gentle kiss. After a moment, Adam broke off and rested his forehead against Tommy’s. In any other situation, Tommy knew he’d be freaking the fuck out. But now, all he did was slide his arms over Adam’s shoulders and around his neck.

And when Adam murmured, “Oh glitterbaby, do you know how _long_ I’ve wanted to do that off stage?” Tommy just shook his head and chuckled.

“Sure took your own damned sweet time getting to it.” Tommy smirked as he carded his fingers through Adam’s hair. “You know that I’m sometimes an oblivious little fucker.”

“No, you were just sort of… kind of… possibly a bit in denial over me but somehow not,” Adam smiled, face lit up like all his birthdays came at once. “I was starting to think I’d have to do something really indecent to a chair.”

Tommy swallowed hard at that. Yeah, he could just imagine what that would look like. Adam in one of those fold-down auditorium chairs, writhing on the seat, spreading those legs and who knew what else. He gripped Adam’s hair tightly and moved Adam’s head down, just enough so their lips were brushing.

“Shit, you’ve fucking got me. Quit working me up unless you’re going to fucking follow through.”

Adam’s eyes gleamed and he softly sang, “My shangri-la beneath the summer moon,”

Tommy inhaled sharply at that, licking at Adam’s lips for a moment before he skipped the next line and cut him off at the pass by singing back, “Babyboy, it’s as sure as the dust that floats high in June.”

A dark flash of something went through Adam’s eyes and he leaned in the last inch to kiss Tommy. All Tommy did was grin into the kiss. Yeah, he and Adam were totally fucking clear now.

 _  
**FIN**   
_   



End file.
